


Little Yellow Tags: Part 7

by lurkdusoleil



Series: Little Yellow Tags [4]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dom/sub, Eating Disorders, M/M, Power Exchange, Romance, Skank!Blaine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-16
Updated: 2013-07-16
Packaged: 2017-12-20 10:07:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/886000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lurkdusoleil/pseuds/lurkdusoleil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt and Blaine realize and negotiate their D/s tendencies, and Burt takes an interest in Kurt's new friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings include mentions of self-harm, unspecified eating disorder, depression/anxiety, brief suicidal ideation, mentions of homophobia, as well as anything that's been mentioned in previous parts.

It’s the first school day after their first time that Blaine does it.

“Don’t grab that,” he says, as Kurt reaches for his lunch tray, intending to put some celery on it and leave it at that. Instead, Kurt removes his hand, blinking in shock, before turning to Blaine with a raised eyebrow.

“Am I not eating now?”

“You haven’t been eating since I met you,” Blaine says simply. “Who knows how long before that.”

The blunt statement makes Kurt bristle, especially as Blaine goes through the lunchline, piling up food that is evidently meant for both of them.

“I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, Blaine.”

“Then why aren’t you?”

Blaine pauses, and turns to Kurt with wide, earnest eyes.

“I’m worried about you, Kurt. You don’t eat more than a few bites, and I’m pretty sure that’s only to stop the questions. You barely sleep. You can’t keep going like this. You’re going to really hurt yourself, more than you have already.”

Kurt blinks rapidly, suddenly fighting off tears. Because Blaine  noticed . It was something he made every attempt to brush off or hide, and everyone up to this point has let him. But Blaine isn’t letting him--he’s not ignoring it or allowing it to pass or just not seeing it.

And then Blaine’s hand is on his shoulder, rubbing gently.

“We can talk about it later, okay?” he says. “How about you go get us a seat, anywhere you like? I’ll finish up here and be there in just a second.”

It’s phrased as a question, but Kurt feels no urge to answer, no doubt that he’ll do exactly as Blaine says, no matter how he says it. He feels tired and heavy and it’s like Blaine is just removing all that horrible responsibility, taking the weight off his shoulders, all the decisions and the stress and the obligations. So it’s almost instinctive, the way he just turns and stalks over to a seat at an empty table, plopping down heavily and putting his bag in the seat next to him for Blaine.

Blaine comes over just a moment later, tray full of food. He sets it down, moves Kurt’s bag carefully to the back of Kurt’s chair, and sits down next to him, pulling the chair right up against Kurt’s.

“Are you okay?” he asks, rubbing Kurt’s thigh with a hand hidden beneath the table.

Kurt opens his mouth to answer, but he feels stuck, like the connection between his brain and his mouth has been severed. So instead he just nods, hunching in on himself, fiddling with his hands on his lap.

“I got you a sandwich, and a few other things, but you’re not going to be able to eat much,” Blaine says, his voice low, barely carrying over to Kurt. “There’s some yogurt, too. I want you to eat what you can, but if you start feeling sick or your stomach hurts, tell me, okay?”

Kurt just nods again, reaching up and grabbing one of the bottles of apple juice instead. He feels thirsty, more than anything else, and the sweet coolness of the juice feels incredible in his mouth. As soon as he swallows, his stomach clamors for more.

He sets the bottle down and looks at the tray. It feels suddenly daunting, all the food before him, like something he has to live up to. He really hasn’t eaten anything substantial in a very long time, just enough to survive, and he knows it’s not healthy. He knows he should be able to finish off a sandwich and some yogurt and a few vegetables and dip. But it’s terrifying, now, seeing it before him and realizing he won’t be able to finish it. That his body can’t even handle that.

It’s like something clicks inside him. A switch turned on, a curtain tugged back from some window in his head. He’s actually been  hurting  himself. He didn’t cut himself open or burn himself or bruise his skin. He just denied himself everything he’s needed to survive, killing himself slowly, denying himself and controlling himself to the point that he actually cannot function like a normal human being anymore.

He can count his own ribs. He can fit in the most demanding clothes. He’s sure his spine sticks out in a stark ridge. His muscles are built up through dance and exercise, but there’s no barrier between them and his skin. And his stomach growls weakly, hardly even able to feel hunger anymore.

What has he done?

“Just take a little bit at a time,” Blaine says soothingly, his hands firm and comforting on Kurt again. “It’s going to be okay. Just eat a little bit for me, okay? One bite. Can you do one bite?”

Kurt automatically lifts his hands--it’s just so much easier not to resist. He doesn’t have the fight in him anymore--he’s too brittle, too easily broken now. Anyone could snap him in half.

“There you go,” Blaine encourages. Kurt reaches for something at least a little familiar first--Blaine picked up a little plate of vegetables, but there’s dip already spooned onto it, denying him the possibility of eating it dry. Calories, no option against it. He lifts a piece of celery and takes a tentative bite, the savory flood of the dip covering his tongue as he crunches through the stringy celery. It’s strange, and overwhelming, and when did he stop eating so much that he can barely handle just a bit of vegetable dip on his taste buds?

He swallows, and then looks over at Blaine, needing to see that he did something right. Blaine smiles at him, eyes shining, hand squeezing his thigh.

“Thank you,” he says earnestly, and Kurt smiles back shakily.

He turns back to the plate, and the celery in his hand. He finishes it off, sips some juice, and then takes a deep breath.

He feels okay. His stomach is rumbling, only feeling a little unsettled. He picks up half of his sandwich and looks at it--turkey, lettuce, tomato, a little bit of mayo on the bread. That’s it. He lifts it up and takes a bite of it, and it doesn’t kill him. He doesn’t lose control of himself, he doesn’t feel violated. He just gets hungrier as he swallows, and ends up going until that half of the sandwich is gone.

He feels really full, and he sighs, his stomach twisting a little bit. He takes a small sip of his juice, and Blaine’s hand rubs up and down his back.

“That’s amazing, baby,” he says, leaning in and leaning his forehead against Kurt’s temple. “I’m so proud of you.”

“I don’t think I can eat anymore right now,” Kurt admits, feeling a little ashamed, but Blaine just nods, smiling.

“You did so well, thank you for doing that,” Blaine says, and Kurt feels a bubble of happiness growing in his chest, cradling his heart carefully in hope and acceptance and love just from Blaine’s words. “You don’t have to eat anymore, what you did was great.”

Kurt finishes his apple juice. It feels like a victory.

\--

That night, his phone rings just as he’s finishing up his moisturizing routine. Kurt answers it on speakerphone, unwilling to get lotion or toner on his screen.

“Hey you,” Blaine’s voice rings out, tinny and a little distant, but Kurt grins anyway--any sound of it makes him feel a little thrill.

“Hi,” Kurt replies.

“How was your evening?”

Kurt pauses in his ablutions, a little sad smile crossing his face. He stares at himself for a long moment, nerves dancing with what he wants to tell Blaine.

He wonders if it’s normal to feel this need for approval from one’s boyfriend. But only for a moment before he gives in.

“I ate at dinner. I think my dad almost died of shock.”

“That’s incredible, Kurt. What did you eat?”

“It was a bowl of stew,” Kurt replies. “But I had bread with it and everything. And milk.”

“Did anyone say anything to you?”

“Not really.” Kurt resumes his routine. “Carole gave me a  look , and my Dad spent the whole time staring at me like I’d grown an extra head, but otherwise it was silent but for the slurping noises coming from Finn.”

“I’m sure they were just happy to see you eating, Kurt,” Blaine assures. “Did you get all your homework done?”

“Yes,” Kurt replies. “Right after dinner. And then I watched some TV with Carole and came up to get ready for bed. Not exactly the exciting night I’m sure you had.”

“Yes, smoking out my window and marathoning Antiques Roadshow was a thrill.”

“You did not.”

“You’d be surprised what I do for family,” Blaine says, but before Kurt can ask what he means, Blaine continues, “Speaking of which, do you have any antiques you’d be willing to donate?”

“Do I want to know why?”

“I wouldn’t,” Blaine says, deadpan. “Nevermind. How about you get into bed?”

Kurt, barely a step away from his recently removed virginity, finds himself biting his lip, blushing furiously.

“What will I be doing there?” he asks, frowning a bit at the weird overly suggestive tone his voice suddenly takes.

“You’ll be going to sleep,” Blaine says. “When’s the last time you got a full night?”

“I think you know the answer to that,” Kurt answers, crisp. He wants Blaine’s approval, and he likes the fact that Blaine  sees him, but this feels a little bit too close to criticism.

“I’m trying to take care of you, Kurt,” Blaine says, apologetic. “I want you to feel good again.”

Kurt grabs his phone and slides into bed, turning off the speakerphone and putting it up to his ear as he shuts off his light and lays back against the pillows. It feels good to go along with Blaine, his every instinct says to just follow it, but there’s a voice in his head that keeps telling him that something’s not  normal about this. He wants to shut it up--either by figuring out that what he’s doing is okay, or by ending it.

“What are we doing, Blaine?” he asks, his voice lowering in the darkness. “I mean...don’t get me wrong, I  love  that you want to...make sure I’m okay.” He takes a deep breath, unsure his point is going to get across, but he pushes on. “I’m just not sure that it’s...normal, I guess. I mean, you don’t see Mike or Tina telling the other to eat or asking if they did their homework.”

Blaine’s silent for a long moment, his breathing even on the other end. Kurt bites his lip and waits.

“Do you want to be like Mike and Tina?” Blaine asks, and Kurt is at least relieved that he doesn’t sound upset at all.

“I don’t mean that,” Kurt says. “I just--I don’t know. When I imagined my first relationship, it wasn’t with someone who needed to babysit me.” He winces, and adds quickly, “I realize that sounds awful, but--”

“I think I know what you mean,” Blaine says. “Did anything I do today, or any day...did it bother you? When it was happening?”

“No,” Kurt insists. He smiles wryly at himself. “Though I guess the fact that it didn’t bother me bothers me. Which is why we’re talking about it.”

“It’s about what others would think.”

Kurt almost denies it, but then he stops. He doesn’t have a problem with what they’re doing himself--his reactions to it, the peacefulness and the happiness that comes from Blaine taking over certain things, are certainly telling. But if anyone were to ask about it, see it and question it, Kurt’s not sure he could explain it without wanting to dig a hole and hide in it, even knowing he’d get dirt on his clothes.

“Yes,” Kurt admits.

“Well, what do they think of you...being with me?”

Kurt almost laughs.

“Rachel wanted to know if I was going through a midlife crisis, and then went on a tangent about how my career will be so much more successful if I die at an early age.”

“Why are you friends with her?” Blaine says with a scoff, and Kurt chuckles.

“If you knew Rachel, you’d know she means well,” Kurt explains. “The fact that she didn’t mention how my untimely demise would remove her from the headlines means she loves me.”

There’s a long pause again, and Kurt finds himself falling into a pattern of thinking the worst. His chest tightens and he’s suddenly nervous.

“You--you don’t have a problem with me being friends with her, do you?”

“No!” Blaine’s answer is quick and emphatic, and Kurt releases a breath that saps the tension from him. “Of course not. I’m not trying to...I don’t want to run your life, Kurt. I just...want to help you manage what you don’t feel like you can. If I’m going too far--”

“No, you’re not,” Kurt backpedals. “That’s not what I meant. I guess I just needed to hear that this is okay.”

“Why don’t we set up some boundaries?” Blaine suggests. “If it’s okay for us, there’s no reason to bring anyone else into it. And I...I want to help. I read that taking away responsibility can help people who have eating problems.”

“I have more than eating problems,” Kurt grimaces. “Why you’re with a mess like me--”

“Hey, don’t say that,” Blaine interrupts. “I don’t want to hear you talking badly about yourself. I wouldn’t let anyone else do it, why would I let you?”

Kurt smiles a bit at that, liking the protectiveness in Blaine’s voice.

“Sorry,” he says. “So...boundaries.”

“Yes.”

“What...what do you want to do?”

Blaine pauses for a minute, and Kurt waits, breath bated, eyes staring up at the darkened ceiling, taking in the patterns his blinds leave across, the moonlight outside brightening through the slats.

“I’m not sure what you’d be okay with,” Blaine admits.

Kurt thinks for a moment, and then sighs.

“I’m not sure either,” he says. “Maybe we should think on it. Take some time. It’s not like we’re deciding what movie to see this weekend.”

Blaine hums.

“Is that a hint?”

Kurt grins.

“Is that a suggestion?”

\--

Kurt wakes up, and his first thought is that he slept.

He  slept .

It wasn’t for long, by looking at the clock. Blaine had insisted on staying on the phone til he fell asleep, but he’d ended up hearing Blaine fall asleep instead. But that’s the last thing he remembers--he doesn’t even remember hanging up. Just listening to Blaine’s breath in his ear, steady and deep.

It’s only four am. But Blaine had fallen asleep around ten thirty. So he got at least five and a half hours, which is more than his usual two or three, if he sleeps at all. And it was a deep sleep, too, not the restless half-dreaming he usually did.

He wants to go back to sleep, actually. But laying there, it doesn’t happen, no matter how much his eyes want to shut and not open til the sun is up. So he gets up, and, head swimming with doubts and uncertainties about what he’s about to do, goes to his computer.

The first thing he searches is  _boyfriend controls my life_ . It leads to all kinds of sites about abuse and Kurt instantly hits the back button and deletes the search from his history, his heart hammering. That is  not what it’s about. So he thinks for a moment, and types in  _consensual relationship contro_ l .

He spends the next three hours reading the results.

It snowballs. It starts with a site that he almost backs away from--he sees the term BDSM and panics. But his eye catches something about “power exchange” and he’s drawn in.

By the time he realizes he has to get ready for school, he thinks he knows what he wants. It scares him--all he’s ever heard about this stuff secondhand is frankly terrifying, and he’s always assumed it was something gross and unnatural. But the moment he realizes that most people think that about him being gay, he throws away his preconceptions and takes in all the information.

Talking to Blaine is going to be embarrassing, he thinks, but he can do it. He can push through and discuss this like an adult. He and Blaine are mature. They’re thinking about this, they need to research it and define it for what it is. It’ll make their expectations solid, and provide them with a groundwork for what they want to build.

He texts Blaine to meet him outside of his apartment building and heads to his car. This is going to require coffee.

\--

They go to the Lima Bean with half an hour before school starts, so they just grab their coffee and decide to head to the school and find a private place to chat. That turns out to be under the bleachers, where the Skanks have not yet shown up for the day. They sit down and drink their coffee, and Blaine pulls out a cigarette and smokes it for a few minutes before he turns to Kurt and kisses the side of his neck.

“You want to talk.”

“I’m fidgeting, aren’t I?”

“Mmhm.”

Kurt laughs self-deprecatingly, and then finishes up his coffee, standing up and throwing it out in the garbage nearby before returning and standing before Blaine, feeling like he’s about to deliver an oral report.

“I did research.”

Blaine raises his eyebrows, smiling up at him.

“I see,” he says. “What did you research?”

“Quite a bit,” Kurt replies carefully. “Now, I want to ask you something, and I don’t want you to judge me. I just want you to hear me and then...consider it.”

“Okay.”

“...Do you want to...take over?  Would  you...take over? Make choices for me, and...take care of me? Is that what you want?”

Blaine holds his hands out, and Kurt walks up stiffly. He holds Kurt’s hands, squeezing them reassuringly.

“I guess that is what I want,” Blaine says. “I know you have trouble taking care of yourself right now, so...if you’d allow it, I’d like to  _take over_ , as you said. Just...little things. So you can focus on yourself instead of the inane daily decisions that take up so much of your energy.”

“How do you just get me?” Kurt asks, sighing, his shoulders slumping.

Blaine tugs him down and kisses him, coffee and cigarettes and boy. Kurt wants to lay himself down and let it be the only thing he feels.

“Kurt, you’re not as good at hiding things as you think,” Blaine says, pulling back just enough to speak. “I’d just rather make sure you’re okay than cower from your wrath.”

“I’m that scary, huh?” Kurt asks, grinning. Blaine grins right back.

“You terrify me.”

Kurt slaps his arm playfully.

“Obviously not enough.”

“No,” Blaine says. “So...I take over. What do I take over?”

“What do you want to take over? I mean...you’re the one taking on twice the responsibility.”

“I don’t see it as a burden,” Blaine says. “How about...I’ll make sure you eat, and sleep. I’ll keep you on track with homework, and I’ll make sure you’re not pushing yourself too hard. How does that sound?”

Kurt bites his lip.

“Could you also pick...what I wear?” Blaine’s eyes widen to saucers, and Kurt backtracks. “Not all the time. Who knows what you would do with that power. I just mean...sometimes, I might text you a few options? And you...you decide?”

“I can do that,” Blaine agrees. “And for anything else, too. Anytime you don’t think you can decide, tell me and I’ll do it for you. And if you want to decide, you tell me, okay? I don’t want to force you into anything.”

“As long as I’m not hurting myself.”

It was hard to say, but Kurt choked it out. Blaine just nods in agreement though, simple. He knows exactly what Kurt means.

“I won’t let you get hurt by anybody. Including you.”


	2. Chapter 2

Three months later, Kurt feels healthier than he ever has.

He’s gained weight--he can’t see his ribs anymore unless he’s stretching, and his spine doesn’t show every single knob from neck to tailbone. His muscles are stronger, his skin looks less pallid. His hair is shinier, his eyes brighter, no longer so sunken. And he and Blaine are...kind of perfect.

Blaine still gets their breakfast and lunch every day. He still asks Kurt to update him on dinner, and checks in to see if his homework is done before staying on the phone with him while he falls asleep. He makes him rest if he’s overtaxed, and riles him up if he gets too complacent. Kurt’s honestly not sure how he ever lived without Blaine giving him this strength, showing him how to be better.

And the two of them aren’t the only ones to notice. The New Directions don’t trust Blaine very much, but more than one of them have commented on Kurt looking happier. Mercedes even invited him to dinner at her house one night before a sleepover, and when her parents allowed her to say grace she thanked her Lord for Blaine’s healing presence in Kurt’s life, something that brought tears to Kurt’s eyes. And later that night, when Rachel had come over, he’d opened up to them, just a little bit.

“He takes care of me,” he’d said. “He makes sure I eat and sleep, and he’s just...he’s so amazing.”

“Kurt, are you sure it’s healthy for someone to be in control of your life like that?” Rachel had asked. “I mean, if I let Finn check on me like that, he’d be insisting I eat pizza and burgers every meal--”

“Not everything is about you and Finn, Rachel,” Mercedes had said in a sing-song voice, smiling up at her from where she was painting Rachel’s toenails a bright shade of pink that made Kurt cringe. “I for one am just happy Kurt’s listening to  someone when they say he’s too skinny. And it’s not like Blaine is forcing Kurt to do anything or ordering him around or something. Kurt would tell us if that were the case, right Kurt?”

Kurt had smiled and reassured them. Blaine isn’t controlling--he always makes sure Kurt is okay with everything going on, but Kurt knows that if Mercedes and Rachel knew the full truth, they might not be so convinced. So he just kept his mouth shut and changed the subject.

Of course, with their approval came the availability of an alibi should he wish to spend the night with Blaine. Burt had been very lenient about him sleeping over since he noticed Kurt’s improvement himself, and Kurt had been convinced he had him fooled all the way until February.

“Kurt, you got something to tell me?” Burt says one day, wiping his hands on a greasy rag while Kurt goes over the garage’s paperwork for some pocket money.

“You mean that you’re missing money from the ledger every month?” Kurt mentions. “Either someone’s stealing from you or you’re funding guys’ night again, Dad--”

“Or I’m paying you under the table when you work too many hours during school days,” Burt says. “No, I mean the guy you’re spending all your time with.”

Kurt freezes. He refuses to look up from the book he’s balancing, Burt will be able to read it in his eyes--

“You gonna be straight with me, or am I gonna have to pull the parent card on you?”

Kurt sighs deeply. Burt didn’t ask about the guy he’s dating, or the guy he’s sleeping with, or the guy he sneaks out to see, or the guy he allows to Dominate him (a term that makes him blush, still, even though all the research he did opened his mind about the connotations). He’s asking about the guy he spends his time with, that’s it.

“His name is Blaine,” Kurt says.

“You two dating?”

“...Yes,” Kurt replies. He looks up apologetically. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about him. He’s just...he’s different, dad, and people have a habit of judging him before they know him.”

“So your solution is to stop me from knowing him? Got nothing left to do but judge.”

“Okay, okay,” Kurt concedes. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about him.”

“Thank you,” Burt says. “Now, I’m gonna have to ground you for lying to me about where you’ve been going at night.”

“What?” Kurt protests. “I didn’t--”

“You forget that Rachel and Finn are dating?” Burt says. Kurt colors. “He’s not nearly as good at lying about where he is, and it just so happens he got caught going over to Rachel’s for the night the same night you were supposed to be over there. Doesn’t take a genius to figure out you had your own agenda, especially after he mentioned you hanging around this guy--”

“I’m going to kill him.”

“Come on, Kurt, you can’t get mad at him,” Burt reasons. “He didn’t tattle on you. Just said you were hanging around with some punk at school. That what you meant about people judging him?”

“Yes,” Kurt admits. He decides to be frank. “Look, Dad, I really care about him. He makes me better--”

“You think I haven’t noticed?” Burt shakes his head and his mouth twists wryly. “I gotta admit, Kurt, I was real worried about you for a long time. I had no idea what to do with you. But all of a sudden this guy turns up and you start gettin’ better. You start eating again, you aren’t up all night scribbling in your notebooks, you’re doing homework and enjoying your Glee club again. I’d’ve had to be an idiot not to notice how happy you’ve been. If I got this guy to thank for it, I think the least I owe him is a chance to make his own impression.”

Kurt freezes again. “Dad--”

“I wanna meet him,” Burt says firmly. “Now, don’t get upset. I gotta lay down some rules, Kurt. You’re still my kid. I wanna meet him. No going out and sleeping over anywhere until then, even if you send me video proof it’s with your girl friends. You come home right after Glee, and you can help around the shop if you get bored. The sooner you bring him over, the sooner you’re off the hook. I think that’s pretty reasonable.”

Kurt sighs and slumps.

“Fine,” he says. “I’ll ask him.”

“Thank you.” Burt pauses before he turns back to his work, giving Kurt a searching look. “You love him?”

Kurt stares back at his dad, right in the eye. He hasn’t said it to Blaine yet, but his father deserves his honesty.

“I do. Love him.”

Burt nods, a resigned look on his face.

“Had to happen eventually,” he says evenly. He gives Kurt a glance. “Hey. I’m glad you found someone, Kurt. You deserve to have that, just like everyone else.”

Kurt smiles sincerely at his father.

“Thank you, Dad.” 

\--

“What is this again?”

“It’s a potato, Blaine.”

Blaine rolls his eyes, leaning on his counter and watching Kurt setting up his experiment for Chemistry.

“Why a potato?”

“It can convert chemical energy into electrical energy,” Kurt explains. “If you went to  _your_ Chemistry class, you’d know that.”

“I’m trying to convince Miss Pillsbury to transfer me to Physics,” Blaine says. “I’d rather not be expected to play with dangerous chemicals with Mack in the room, she’d just insist I pour acid all over the teacher or light fires with the bunsen burner.”

“But it’d be okay to throw paper airplanes at the teacher to explain aerodynamics?”

“If you think any of the Skanks opt to take Physics, you don’t know the Skanks.”

Kurt leans over and kisses the corner of his mouth before settling the plugs into the potato  just right , lighting the bulb on the other end.

“I know you.”

“Well, I should live up to my Skank name, then.” He slips a cigarette in his mouth and leans over to one of the potatoes. “Will this light my smoke?”

“Are you crazy?” Kurt slaps him away. “Go smoke somewhere else. I have to make sure this is perfect before I turn it in.”

“It is perfect, Kurt,” Blaine says, pressing up behind Kurt and running his hands up Kurt’s arms. “It lights up and everything. Unplug it, and come sit with me. I want to talk.”

“What did I do wrong?” Kurt asks immediately, whirling around. “I know I ate today--”

“I know, baby,” Blaine soothes. “I just--just want you to listen.”

Kurt sighs in relief, turning around to unplug his potato and make sure it’s set before he turns back around.

“Okay. What’s going on.”

Blaine gives Kurt a look, but he doesn’t insist they go sit down. Instead, he steps between Kurt’s legs and wraps his arms around Kurt’s waist.

“I want you to know I’m proud of you,” Blaine says softly, gently. “You’ve been taking care of yourself more often than not, lately. It’s been a while since I had to remind you to sleep or eat.”

“Yes, I’ve become quite the expert at the whole human thing.”

“You have,” Blaine agrees, despite the teasing tone of Kurt’s voice. He kisses Kurt sweetly. “I wanted to know if you want me to stop the whole taking care of you thing. Now that you’ve got a handle on it.”

Kurt feels his stomach twist unpleasantly, and he grimaces.

“Do you not want to anymore?”

“No, no, of course I want to!” Blaine insists, tugging Kurt closer as he tries to back away. “But...boundaries, you know?”

“I can safeword,” Kurt says shyly.

“You can. So...you’re good.”

Kurt smiles, trying not to feel unsettled that they’re trying to discuss something. Blaine’s never really been very good at it, and the fact that he’s doing it now is making Kurt wonder what’s going through his head. Blaine usually just teases or flirts his way through conversations, and every step in their relationship seems to have an awkward conversation preceding it--maybe one day they’ll be good at talking to each other, but til that time, Blaine seems to prefer confrontation and action over words, even if he tries to meet Kurt halfway in the talking department.

“I’m very good,” Kurt hums, pressing into Blaine, kissing him slowly before pulling back. If Blaine has something he wants to express, maybe Kurt can make it a little easier, put it on Blaine’s turf. “I’ll keep being good if you keep holding me.”

“Come to the bedroom,” Blaine whispers against Kurt’s lips. “I have an experiment of my own.”

“Oh my god, that was so cheesy,” Kurt laughs, and Blaine just keeps grinning, tugging him back toward the door to his bedroom. As always, Kurt looks to the other bedroom doors, always shut, apparently always empty, and wonders all of three seconds before Blaine has him out of the hall and just where he wants him.

He lowers Kurt onto the bed, kissing him deeply, toying with his clothes, slowly and subtly loosening and tugging until the clothes would feel better off than on.

“So what’s this experiment?” Kurt asks breathlessly, gasping as Blaine shoves his shirt off his shoulders. He whines at a hard bite to his collarbone, followed by a strong suck.

“Mmm--I want to try...what we’ve been doing. But in here.”

It takes Kurt a minute to get what Blaine is so delicately trying to say, between leaving hickeys all over Kurt’s chest and neck.

“You mean--tell me what to do?”

Blaine stops, pulling off Kurt’s left nipple with a wet pop before looking up at him with a look far too innocent for someone whose lips are red and whose hair is messed up like that, whose eye liner is smeared around his eyes and who’s got a little bit of saliva on his chin.

“Would you like that?”

Blaine looks so hopeful, and Kurt...Kurt’s not one hundred percent sure. He likes Blaine taking charge, but generally, during sex, he’s fine. He likes what they do. But...maybe trying something else might be fun. Especially something that he’s enjoyed elsewhere. Like kissing. He enjoyed kissing before they started having sex. And it progressed. Maybe this could progress.

Of course, he likes eating soup outside of sex. And that would probably be the wrong kind of progression to make.

But he can find out.

“Okay,” Kurt says. “Okay, do it.”

Blaine takes him at his word. He strips Kurt of his clothes completely, pausing only briefly to make sure they hang easily over the back of his chair before he’s back, taking his own clothes off at a much slower pace while his mouth lands on Kurt’s skin.

“I think...I think you deserve a reward,” Blaine says, only fumbling a little bit with the words. “You’ve been doing--so well, baby,  _so_ well--”

“Oh--” Kurt feels a rush of arousal at the praise, his hips bucking as though he can get more if his body makes a connection.

“How would you like to top me?”

Kurt imagines it. So far, he’s been perfectly happy with bottoming--he likes the way Blaine feels inside him, likes how intense and intimate it is. He likes that he can trust Blaine to put him in that vulnerable position and give him the exact opposite of hurt. But the idea of Blaine around his cock, opening up for  _him_ , being vulnerable for  _him_ , trusting Kurt like that--

“Yes,” Kurt babbles. “Yes, please. Please let me--”

“You don’t have to beg, beautiful,” Blaine hums, sounding pleased. “You’ll get to. I’ll feel so good for you, I promise.”

He kicks off his boxers and lays on top of Kurt, rutting against him, warm and heavy and hard, pressing him down.

“I want to try something,” Blaine says. “Do--do you think you could be completely still?”

Kurt tries to imagine  _that_ , and fails completely.

“I--I’ll try,” he says uncertainly, head swimming. Blaine kneels up over him and pulls the lube from his bedside table, and that’s it. “Where’s the condom?”

“I--I don’t want to use one,” Blaine says. “I--I cleaned. Earlier. So.”

“And how exactly do you expect me to hold still,” Kurt breathes, throwing an arm over his eyes. His task suddenly feels that much more impossible--feeling Blaine directly against his skin, hot and  wet \--

“Well, if you want to fuck me, you’ll figure it out,” Blaine says, no room for a question in his tone. And Kurt breathes out, shaky and anxious, needing to feel Blaine  now .

“Watch me,” Blaine says. Kurt peeks out from beneath his elbow, and Blaine is reaching behind himself three fingers pushing into himself.

“Oh my god how are you doing that.”

“I’ve been waiting to do this since you got here,” Blaine grunts, riding his fingers with half-shut eyes, lips open to draw in breath.

“I’ve been here two hours--”

“And I’ve been going to the bathroom every half hour to keep myself open.”

Kurt lets out a surprised, desperately turned on noise at the memories of Blaine slipping away to the bathroom every time that afternoon. He’d thought Blaine had just had too much coffee, but now he knows that Blaine was  fingering  himself, not twenty feet away, he’d probably hidden lube in the bathroom, and Kurt had stared at his finger when he’d lit a cigarette, fingers that had been inside himself--

“You ready?”

Lube slides over his cock, and he drops his arm, looking down at Blaine straddling over him. He’s one hundred percent sure he’ll never last, and he’ll be completely incapable of keeping himself still, not with this beautiful man hovering over him.

“I don’t think I’m ever ready for you, Blaine,” he laughs, overwhelmed. Blaine leans down over him, chest-to-chest, and brings his wrists up above his head. This, at least is familiar, the weight, the pressure of Blaine’s fingers, the fit of them around his bones--

And then it’s gone, leaving only a ghost of contact behind.

“Keep your hands here,” Blaine commands. “Don’t move them. Don’t move your hips, either.”

His hand circles Kurt’s cock and holds it steady, lining him up. And then he’s sinking, and the head of Kurt’s dick is in a vise that could quickly become a vice.

“Oh, that feels--wait--no, come back--”

“You moved,” Blaine says, his ass unbearably far away, not an inch above where it had just been squeezing Kurt so tight--

But Blaine’s right. Kurt hands are in his own hair, tugging, squeezing, scratching his own scalp. He whimpers and puts them back in place, wrists crossed and fists clenched tight.

“Good boy,” Blaine says, and Kurt’s hips buck uncontrollably, his cock bumping up behind Blaine’s balls. “Ah--you were doing so well, baby. Don’t make me punish you anymore.”

The image of Blaine spanking him crosses Kurt’s mind, and he blushes when it shoots down to his groin, tightening and tingling and pushing him closer to a too-close edge without any contact whatsoever. Is it even okay to  like that image, like he’s a naughty child...?

All thoughts flee, though, when Blaine sits down on him again, parting over his cock. He settles completely, watching Kurt closely, who stares back, clenching his jaw tight to control himself, his muscles trembling in the effort not to move.

“There’s my good boy,” Blaine purrs, circling his hips, movements tight and short, nails digging into his own thighs. “Taking it so well, baby.”

It’s something Blaine says something when he’s inside Kurt, and Kurt always thought it was something tied up with topping. But it’s true--he is taking it, even if he’s the one inside Blaine, but Kurt can’t help but wonder--

“Could I--could I be...on top?” Kurt asks meekly. “I promise I’ll do everything you say, I’ll even hold still and let you do all the moving, I just--I want to feel it--”

“Yeah--yeah, Kurt, of course. Sit up.”

Kurt sits up, and Blaine clings to him tightly before tugging them both down. Kurt takes over, rolling them, pulling most of the way out by accident before he manages to get Blaine properly on his back. They still end up diagonally across the bed, one of Kurt’s feet dangling off the side.

“That looks a lot easier in movies,” Kurt blurts, and Blaine laughs, kissing Kurt happily.

“At least we didn’t hurt ourselves,” Blaine notes, and Kurt chuckles. But the moment passes, and he looks down at Blaine seriously.

“Do I feel good?” he asks, sliding in slowly, letting Blaine adjust to him bit by bit this time. Blaine clings around him still, arms and legs wrapping around Kurt’s body. He feels so small, all of a sudden, but Kurt still feels like there’s a weight on him, from below--which makes no sense, what is he even thinking--

“You feel incredible,” Blaine says. “I want you to stay completely still again, okay? Hold yourself up--just like that--and let me do the work.”

Kurt’s basically on his hands and knees, hips down to lay against Baine’s. It’s a difficult position to hold, but he can do it--his arms are strong enough. At least for a little while.

He feels weak, though, when Blaine starts moving, twisting beneath him, holding Kurt’s shoulders to tug himself off Kurt’s cock and then shove himself back down, making the prettiest noises.

“Oh--oh that’s good--feel so hard in me--right-- _right there_ , oh--

Kurt moves. His hips thrust forward of their own accord, needing to hit Blaine in the perfect places Blaine hits him, but Blaine immediately pulls off of him, thighs gripping Kurt’s hips tight, holding him back.

“No,” Blaine says. “I said don’t move.”

“I’m sorry,” Kurt whimpers. “So sorry--”

“We’ll start again, baby.”

Blaine moves so slowly again, and Kurt hadn’t even realized he’d been speeding up before until he went back to the beginning. It’s torture, being in this position that implies power, but being able to do nothing but let Blaine work over him.

It happens twice more. The second time, his arms almost give out, and he has to get permission to kneel up and put his weight on his legs before Blaine begins again. The third time is pure loss of control--he can see all of Blaine’s body like this, can see Blaine sliding on and off his cock, tugging his own erection, shiny and red and full and Kurt wants to  lick it, make it shiny and suck until his mouth fills with come--

“Last chance, baby,” Blaine says. “Don’t move til I tell you, or you won’t be comin tonight.”

Kurt almost comes right there, just from Blaine’s words. He  has  to come, has to feel it, he’s been too close for too long--

So he stays totally still. He stares at Blaine’s hair, dark with sweat, curling and colorful, and he needs a touchup, and he thinks, maybe Blaine will let him do it, let him thread the color into his hair, let him run his fingers through Blaine’s hair,  _oh that’s not helping_ \--

“I’m close baby,” Blaine says. “If I let you move, can you last until I come?”

“Yes, yes, anything,” Kurt grits out through clenched teeth. “Please please please let me move.”

“Yes,” Blaine says.

Kurt falls over, holding himself up with one hand, the other gripping Blaine’s thigh, hitching it up as he thrusts forward, hard. Blaine cries out, spreading his other leg out, and Kurt goes deeper, and he can’t take it, he has to come--

“Come, Blaine,” he begs. “Please, please come, need you to come, want it--”

Blaine tugs on his cock furiously, and Kurt thrusts for another minute before he feels it tightening up in his belly. Kurt knows he’ll come, and Blaine will punish him--

Maybe that’s what Blaine wants.

“I’m gonna come, Blaine,” Kurt moans. “I’m gonna come. I have to. You can punish me, I don’t care, spank me, make me wait all week to come again, just let me come  _now_ \--”

“Come,” Blaine cries. “Come now, come with me--”

They almost line up. Kurt feels like he explodes, hips stuttering out of time. His eyes fly shut, air rushing from his lungs spots dancing behind his eyelids. He feels a hot splash over his chest, and he opens his eyes to Blaine’s face drawn, his throat working in a swallow as he squeezes out the last few drops of come, grinding himself on Kurt’s cock and jumping with the sensitivity of it.

“Wait,” Blaine groans, when Kurt tries to pull back. “Just--give me another second.”

Blaine continues to grind, moving against Kurt’s softening cock. Kurt bites his lip through it--he’s not going soft, not with Blaine moving like this, and it almost burns, but Blaine is making high little noises in his throat and he looks like he’s in a whole other world of feeling good and he can’t stop him--

“Uh--uh--fuck,” Blaine says, collapsing, panting. Kurt drops on top of him, his cock slipping from Blaine wetly, moist with lube and come. His chest is gross and he’s sweaty and breathing harder than he can recall breathing during the sex itself, his head a little dizzy and floaty and the world going quiet around him.

_Is this subspace?_ he thinks, as though from a distance.  _I think I read about that._

If it is, he likes it. It’s similar to what he’s felt before--that light, weightless feeling, but with a curious muffling of the world around him. He could stay here forever, relaxed, perfect, no worries or cares, every discomfort just a distant buzz in the background, because the only thing that matters is that Blaine just reached something deep inside him, lead Kurt to a place where he feels  perfect , warm and cozy against him.

“How do you feel?” Blaine asks, after a few minutes of petting Kurt’s hair and back.

Kurt thinks for a minute, and then starts giggling.

“Not like soup.”

It’s supremely funny to him, and he can’t stop laughing, snorty little high pitched giggles that have Blaine laughing at him.

“What on earth does that mean.”

“I don’t know,” Kurt says. “Remind me to explain later.”

“Why, do you have other pressing things to be talking about?”

Kurt blinks.

“Yes, actually,” he says. “You distracted me. I was going to tell you after I was done with my experiment.”

“What’s that?” Blaine asks.

Kurt looks up at him, drawing his finger along Blaine’s clavicle.

“My dad wants to meet you,” he says. “He wants you to come over for dinner sometime. Probably on a Friday night, that’s usually when we’re all together as a family.”

“This Friday?”

Kurt bites his lip.

“I’m technically not supposed to be here,” Kurt says. “I threatened Finn with everything I have not to tell Dad Glee was cancelled today. I’m only allowed to go there, otherwise I’m grounded til I introduce you guys.”

“He wants to meet me that much?”

“Well, he found out I’ve been...sneaking around with you,” Kurt says. “He was pretty generous, considering. As far as I know, the grounding ends if he gets to see with his own two eyes that I’m not throwing myself around with a delinquent or something.”

Blaine glares playfully as Kurt giggles again, but the playfulness doesn’t last long.

“I am a delinquent, though,” he says. “That’s all your dad will see.”

“He’s not as bad as you think,” Kurt soothes. “He’ll give you a chance, same way I did. Just...be the charming, nice Blaine I know resides within the leather and terrible makeup choices.”

Blaine pokes him in the side, and Kurt laughs, wriggling.

“I’ll start wearing neon eyeshadow if you don’t stop criticizing my eyeliner,” Blaine warns. “And you know you love it.”

“I do,” Kurt hums, kissing Blaine. “But not when it runs like it is now. C’mon, time for a shower before I go.”

“Maybe you should make some questionable makeup choices for the rest of the week, though,” Blaine says suggestively, and Kurt raises an eyebrow as they hop off the bed and stumble toward the bathroom.

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” Blaine says. “You’re going to have to cover up those if you want to convince him I’m not stealing your virtue.”

Kurt looks down at his chest in the mirror as he passes it, and then he gasps and smacks Blaine’s arm as he hops into the shower.

“Blaine Anderson, I look like I have the _plague_ \--


	3. Chapter 3

The hickeys are covered with thickly applied stage makeup that Kurt rush ordered online. Burt is happily sitting in his chair with a low-cal beer, Finn is on the couch with eyes still wide from the stern talking-to Kurt had given him that afternoon on the drive home, and Carole just insisted she take over everything in the kitchen after Kurt almost added one of his fingers to the pile of onions and peppers for the fifth time.

“If I see the ketchup come out of the fridge,” he says, reluctantly giving in to the guiding shoves she keeps giving him toward the living room, “I swear, Carole, next time we’re out I’ll make you buy neon--”

“You say that like I didn’t happily wear it all through high school,” Carole sasses him. “You already cooked up your special tomato sauce, Kurt. I wouldn’t put it to waste. _Go._ ”

So he shuffles into the living room, barely resisting the urge to grumble, and takes up a spot on the couch next to Finn.

“Carole kick you out?” Burt asks, smirking too much for Kurt’s liking.

“No,” Kurt insists. “I decided that it would be best if I were not busy when my...friend came to the door. I don’t want Finn answering the knock and scaring him away.”

“Hey, I heard everything you said earlier,” Finn protests. “No worries about me.”

“You really that nervous, kid?”

“I don’t know, Dad,” Kurt says. “My family is all waiting around for my punk boyfriend to show up so I can get ungrounded for hanging out with him. Why would I be nervous?”

“Don’t give me attitude.” Burt turns and faces him, an easy smile on his face, but his eyebrows raised in a manner that clearly states _you are being a dumbass._ “I am well within my parental rights to meet the kid who stole my son’s virtue or whatever.”

“Oh my god, Dad.”

Burt chuckles delightedly while Kurt covers his eyes.

“I cannot believe this,” Kurt mumbles.

“Right there with ya, dude,” Finn agrees, and Kurt smacks his arm.

“Don’t you even start with me, I never heard anyone accusing Rachel of _stealing your virtue._ ”

“Um...”

“Or Santana, whatever.”

_Knock knock knock._

“I’ll get it,” Kurt groans, flying up off the couch and to the front door.

He pauses with his hand on the knob, taking a deep breath and giving himself a brief, impromptu pep talk. Blaine is his boyfriend. He loves Blaine, unadmittedly. Blaine wears mesh and eyeliner and has a tongue piercing and they just had messy, hurried sex in Kurt’s car yesterday and Burt will _know--_

He opens the door.

And he stops.

“Um...can I come in?”

Kurt stares. Blaine is--Blaine, but. Not. He’s wearing a _polo_ , a white polo that is tight across his chest and arms, and a red, white, and blue striped _bowtie_ , and his jeans aren’t ripped or dirty or covered in paint splatters, and he’s wearing fucking _loafers_ with no socks and he’s holding _flowers._

“Who are you and what have you done with my boyfriend?”

Blaine laughs, and Kurt can’t see his tongue ring.

“Should I put on a fashion show right here on the porch?” he asks. “I’m feeling a little exposed right now, so I’d be grateful if you said no.”

“Come in,” Kurt says, backing up, and his eyes are locked on Blaine’s ears, of all things. Not that they’re not sexy ears anyway, but the gauges are flesh-toned, and Kurt wouldn’t even notice they were gauges if he weren’t looking for the ones he was wearing just that morning when they got coffee before school.

“Hello?” Carole rounds into the hall from the kitchen, grinning. “Oh! Hello.”

Kurt’s not sure he likes the way she’s smiling, but at least it’s better than anything his dad had had on his face since he got home.

“I’m Carole,” she says, coming forward to look Blaine over. “Kurt’s step-mom.”

“Hi,” Blaine replies, all smiles and charm. “It’s nice to meet you, Carole. I hope you like daisies.”

“For me?” she gasps, and Kurt almost laughs. “They’re _beautiful_ , thank you, Blaine. I’ll just go put these in some water.”

She might as well giggle and fan herself, Kurt thinks, as she practically bounces back to the kitchen.

“What is this?” Kurt hisses, having trouble keeping the corners of his mouth from trying to reach his ears.

“This is a good impression,” Blaine replies. “I thought you wanted me to make one of those.”

“I was not expecting this, though,” Kurt says. “May I say that I approve?”

“Enjoy it while it lasts,” Blaine teases, putting a hand on Kurt’s hip and leaning in to kiss the corner of his mouth. “What did you threaten Finn with to behave?”

“Permanent injury,” Kurt says easily. “I told him he’d be singing higher than me if he messed up.”

Blaine laughs and shakes his head.

“You are terrifying.”

“Hmmm, I am,” Kurt agrees. “Come on.”

Blaine pulls back from his hip, and Kurt’s not sure if he’s grateful. On one hand, it’s probably best if they don’t look like they’re regularly having kinky gay sex. On the other, Kurt wants the comfort of contact and feeling... _possessed_ , if he’s being honest. He wants to know he’s Blaine’s and Blaine is his, no matter what.

Maybe he should take the fact that Blaine showed up here looking as normal as possible with blue and red streaks in his hair as proof of it.

“Dad?” Kurt says tentatively, hovering with Blaine in the opening between the hall and living room. “This is Blaine.”

Burt gets up from his couch when Blaine offers a hand out, and takes it, shaking once.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Hummel.”

“Burt’s fine, kid,” Burt says. “Gotta be honest, I was expecting something very different, from what I’ve heard about you.”

“I thought it would be best if you got to know _me_ before you saw the way I normally dress,” Blaine says calmly. “I know it can put people off, and it was important to Kurt that you see that it’s just clothes. It’s not who I am.”

“Well, I can respect that,” Burt says, a little awkwardly. He takes a sip of his beer and then gestures to the couch. “Why don’t you have a seat.”

“Can I get anyone anything to drink?” Kurt asks, realizing he’s breathless and needing a moment to collect himself. “Another beer, dad?”

“Sure, kiddo,” Burt says. “Thanks. Blaine, what’s your poison?”

“I made some lavender lemonade, if you want to try it,” Kurt suggests. Blaine smiles up at him widely.

“I’d love to try it.”

Kurt nods, fidgeting, and looks to Finn.

“I’m gonna grab a coke from my room,” Finn says, and before Kurt can stop him, he’s up and out the room and thundering up the stares.

Kurt turns to glare at his father, suspecting him behind this. He’d been counting on Finn to keep things less awkward while he went to get drinks like a good host.

“Kurt?” Burt says, and Kurt sighs. “Mind getting me that beer? I’m empty.”

“Sure, Dad,” he says, with the falsest sweetness he’s ever heard from his own mouth. And his father, the jerk, just smiles a little wider, smug and Kurt’s going to pop a blood vessel--

“Let him have his fun,” Carole says, without even looking at him, when he storms into the kitchen, heading to the fridge as fast as he can. “He was convinced he wouldn’t get to do this for a long time, so he’s a little excited.”

“Is there something generally thrilling about making a child’s significant other uncomfortable?”

“Oh, you bet,” Carole says with relish. “The first time Rachel came over I almost made her cry.”

Carole _cackles._ That’s the only word for it. Kurt gives her what can only be described as a side eye himself and grabs a beer before pouring the lemonade in a glass for Blaine. On a whim, he plucks out one of the lavender garnishes and a slice of lemon to make it pretty, and then gathers them up.

“One day you’ll have a kid,” Carole says, as he’s leaving, stirring the vegetables searing on the stove. “And you’ll figure out how fun it is to ruin their lives.”

Finn comes stomping down the stairs just as Kurt’s passing by, and Kurt thinks about the things he’d do to embarrass Finn if he could get away with it, and might understand just a little bit.

“Really? You had to leave him alone in there?” he asks viciously, when Finn gets close enough.

“I’m sorry, bro, but Burt told me to,” Finn explains patiently. Kurt’s not impressed. “What was I supposed to do?”

“How about remembering that I know exactly where you were last weekend?”

“Mom already knows Puck took me to that party--”

“Rachel doesn’t.”

Finn looks like Kurt just tried to hit him in the balls.

“That is so uncool.”

“Take what you deserve,” Kurt spits, and hurries into the living room.

Where his boyfriend and his father burst out laughing.

“What did I miss?” Kurt asks cautiously, handing Blaine his lemonade and then letting Burt take the beer from his increasingly weak fingers.”

“Pay up,” Burt says. “You may be dating him, but I raised him, I know my son.”

Blaine pulls his wallet out, laughing and handing Burt a ten dollar bill.

“You were right,” Blaine sighs. “Damn.”

“What is going on?”

Blaine looks up at Kurt, smiling, only a little bit of guilt on his face. Burt doesn’t look sorry at all.

“I bet him you’d add both the lavender sprig and the lemon slice to the lemonade.”

Kurt crosses his arms.

“Seriously?” he huffs, directing most of his ire at Blaine, miffed at the nerve he has of getting along with his dad so well. “You guys made a bet about me in the five minutes I was gone. About if I’d garnish your drink.”

“I thought you’d only add the lemon,” Blaine says. “For contrast.”

“Well, that’s why I included the lemon, yes,” Kurt admits. “But the lavender--”

“--finishes the look,” Burt finishes.

Kurt turns and glares at him.

“Was this necessary?”

“Hey, aren’t you happy I’m not grilling him or yelling at him?” Burt asks.

“Yes, why is that?” Kurt asks, sitting down next to Blaine, who grabs his hand.

“I talked to your dad about why I dress the way I do,” Blaine explains.

“And you’re fine with it?” Kurt asks Burt.

“I figure it’s not much different than you wearing skirts.”

“Kilts, Dad.”

“Either way. You’re making a statement, or whatever. As long as you’re not hurting anybody, I don’t see the point in getting worked up about it.”

“Well...thank you.”

“Now. Blaine. You watch college ball?”

\--

It’s...surprisingly easy. They all sit around the living room for a while, Finn and Blaine and Burt talking sports, and Kurt flipping through Vogue for the eighth time. He points out certain articles and outfits to Blaine during lulls. They sip their drinks, they chat. Eventually, Kurt wanders to the kitchen and resumes helping Carole cook, hands less shaky and less susceptible to accidental amputation.

“Is your life ruined?” Carole asks, at one point, smirking at him over the perfect meatloaf she pulls from the oven.

“No,” Kurt replies, unamused.

“Well, there’s still time.”

A few minutes later, they set the table with Blaine’s volunteered help. Blaine brushes his skin anytime they pass, and Kurt is grinning by the time everything is set up.

“Dinner!” he calls, seating himself and making sure Blaine is right next to him.

And then...dinner is normal. They eat, Kurt and Carole get warm, generous compliments from Blaine and Burt, and Finn stuffs his face without a sound. It’s easy.

Until Finn takes a breath.

“How’s Glee been going?” Carole asks him, leaning back in her chair to sip at her own lightly spiked lemonade.

“It’s okay,” he says. “We’re still short people. Hey--” he turns to Blaine. “--do you think you could convince Quinn to come back?”

“You hang out with Quinn?” Burt asks, and his tone is a little more suspicious now. Burt knows exactly how Quinn has been these past several months, and Kurt feels his stomach drop.

“Yeah, Blaine’s totally in with the Skanks,” Finn says, and Kurt vows to end him.

“Skanks?” Carole asks, blinking and shaking her head as though she can’t believe what she hears.

“Um...yeah,” Finn continues, and Kurt wishes he were close enough to kick him under the table. Or over the table, he’s not picky. “It’s just...what they call themselves. You know, the people who--”

He seems to catch Kurt’s attempts to mentally eviscerate him, and trails off, awkwardly stuffing more food in his mouth with an unconvincingly innocent drift of attention.

“People who what?” Burt asks, his voice suddenly stern. Kurt decides to take over before Finn does anymore damage.

“It’s a clique,” Blaine says, before he can. He squeezes Kurt’s thigh under the table. “Just like the jocks or the cheerleaders or the nerds. Skanks are punks, the kids who hang out under the bleachers and skip class.”

“And you’re one of them?” Burt asks. “So your clothes aren’t just clothes, then. You hang out with Quinn and the other girls who run around town smoking cigarettes and smashing beer bottles on people’s houses.”

“I admit that Quinn and the girls do that,” Blaine says, trying to stay reasonable. Kurt can barely breathe. “But I only associate with them at school, and that’s because in a place like McKinley, you have to join a group. It’s like what they say about prison on TV--you have find people to protect you. If I could get away with it, I’m sure I’d be in Glee with Kurt and Finn. But honestly, by sitting under the bleachers during lunch, and by skipping a class or two to appear with the girls, I ensure that no one wants to hurt me, or anyone I associate with. No one wants to mess with the Skanks, because, like you said, they smash beer bottles. They smoke. They get even with people. I don’t like it, but Kurt hasn’t been slushied since we started hanging out. If that’s all I could get out of it, I’d do it.”

Kurt lets out a breath when Blaine finishes, and turns to look at him, feeling a silly urge to cry. He smiles, and Blaine smiles back, and for a moment, the table doesn’t matter.

When Kurt turns away, he looks over at his dad and gives him a smile as well.

“Blaine’s helped me, Dad,” he says. “He’s the only reason I’m okay right now.”

Burt sits back in his chair and studies them for a long moment.

“Finn, could you give us a second?” he asks. Finn leaps away gratefully, not even saying goodbye before he rushes up to his room. Kurt takes a breath and holds Blaine’s hand--no matter what he hears, he isn’t letting go.

“I want you to tell me how bad you were, Kurt,” Burt says. “I know things weren’t easy for you, but I get the feeling I’ve been missing something a lot bigger than you were letting on.”

Blaine’s hand is tight around his own, and he hears a whisper in his ear.

“Do you want me to talk?”

“No,” Kurt answers. He holds on, and he looks up, not at Carole, or at Burt, but right at Blaine. “I don’t know if I’d still be alive right now if I hadn’t met Blaine.”

There’s a thundering silence, and even Blaine’s eyes widen at him.

“Blaine, could you go wait in the living room, please,” Burt says, his voice hushed. When Kurt looks over, he catches Carole with her hand over her mouth, and Burt’s eyes are suspiciously shiny. Blaine looks to Kurt, who just nods, and there’s silence while Blaine heads out of the room. Burt continues, “What do you mean, Kurt?”

“I mean I hadn’t had anything to eat in months,” Kurt admits. “I hadn’t been sleeping. At all, not just a few hours in the morning or something--I mean, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d slept. I...I kept having dreams about dying. I kept thinking K-Karofsky would come back and kill me, or I’d...I’d just finally go to sleep, and never wake up again. I was trying to be normal, to figure out college and go to class and hang out with my friends and go to Glee, but I was starting to wonder if there was a point. If anyone would notice if I just disappeared.”

“Oh, Kurt,” Carole says, openly crying.

“Blaine saw me,” Kurt says. “He saw something was wrong, and just...he didn’t let it slide. He didn’t sit back and watch me get worse. He _made_ me get better. He got me lunch every day. He called to make sure I was going to sleep after I did my homework. He...he made me feel I was worth caring about.”

Burt’s lip trembles, as he watches Kurt start to cry himself, and he reaches over and grabs Kurt’s hand.

“Why didn’t you tell me, kid?”

“I didn’t know how,” Kurt admits. “It was like someone just stole my voice. I thought...I thought I could just handle it, that it would go away eventually. That one day I’d just figure out how to deal with everything. I didn’t want you to worry about me.”

Burt stands, and he pulls Kurt up out of his chair and into a crushing hug. Kurt lets himself cry, burying himself in his father’s arms, feeling safe. And then he feels Carole behind him, joining in the hug, and he’s a child again, needing his parents to make the hurt go away.

“I’m sorry,” he sobs, and someone pets his hair while he cries.

It takes a while for them all to calm down, but when they do, Kurt pulls back, wiping his eyes.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Burt says, looking in Kurt’s eyes, convincing him. “This was not your fault.”

“Do you see why Blaine hangs out with the Skanks, though?” Kurt asks, nervous. “He can protect himself, and he can protect me. No one messes with me anymore, Dad. I haven’t heard anyone call me names all year--the last time I was slushied was the day I met Blaine. He helped clean me up and got me home even though some of the jocks wanted to start trouble in the parking lot. And then he wanted to be my friend even though I was mean to him, I basically yelled at him for being who he is.”

“I don’t agree with how those girls live their lives,” Burt says. “And I don’t like that Blaine hangs around them, because that means you’re around them too, am I right?”

“They’re just idiots, Dad,” Kurt insists. “Idiots who don’t have anything else to turn to. We’re kids--how are we supposed to survive when we don’t know how? We’re all just winging it. They just...figured out a different way to go about it. Probably not the best way,” he adds, conceding.

“I’m grateful to Blaine for what he’s done for you, whatever it is,” Burt says, and Carole nods along with him. “I don’t pretend to understand. High school was different back in my day. We had cliques, but I don’t know that anyone was ever made to feel like they had to die to make things better. It happened, when some people just got depressed, but things are emotional now. People are different, meaner, crueler. And I’ve seen you be so strong, Kurt, face up to everything. I think you made me forget that you’re still a kid. You shouldn’t have to be that strong.”

“Blaine is being strong for me, now,” Kurt says. “Please say I can see him again. Everything’s better when he’s there.”

“I’m not sure I like the sound of that, but I can’t deny he’s done you more good than I could ever know,” Burt says. “How about this. Promise me you’ll be honest about where you’re going, and I’ll trust you to decide where you can go. I’ll let you go to Blaine’s house when you want. And you can sleep over on weekends--if it’s okay with his folks. In return, you keep me updated. You go out with your other friends, you go out and do things yourself, too. You work a little at the shop, you do your thing here. You act like a teenager, okay? And if you ever feel things gettin’ out of hand, you come talk to me or Carole. Does that sound like a fair compromise?”

“Yes,” Kurt agrees. “Basically, just do what I’m doing now, but tell you about it.”

“Pretty much.” Burt smiles at him. “Now, you got any dessert out there? ‘Cause I’m still hungry.”

Kurt hugs his father again, and then Carole.

“Thank you both,” he says. “I’m sorry I--”

“No more apologies,” Burt says. “We’ll take dessert in the living room. C’mon, Carole, I’ll help you get it out.”

Kurt recognizes it for what it is, aided by the complete lack of subtlety his dad employs, and goes to see Blaine before they’re interrupted.

“Are you okay?” Blaine asks, immediately pulling Kurt into his arms when he’s sees his red, wet face.

“I’m perfect,” Kurt replies, hugging his boyfriend--his _boyfriend_ \--tight, smelling the cigarette smoke ground deep into his skin, smiling into his shoulder. “Everything’s perfect. Would your--whoever you live with, would they be okay with me sleeping over on weekends? With permission this time?”

Blaine pulls back.

“What did I miss.”

“My dad is okay with us,” Kurt says. “And he said he’s okay with me sleeping over as long as your family is.”

“It won’t be an issue.” Blaine smiles, and kisses Kurt deeply, a little too deeply for his living room, but Burt and Carole are still making sounds in the kitchen and Kurt needs it.

“Dessert!”

They pull away at Carole’s warning shout, and Kurt starts laughing when she comes in, peeking around the corner exaggeratedly.

“Do I need to wear a blindfold?” Burt asks, and Carole strolls in.

“Stop overreacting,” she says, setting plates of pound cake and raspberries on the coffee table. Burt comes in behind her and bumps her with his hip when he passes.

“Stop ruining my fun.”

Kurt sits down, and this time, Blaine puts his arm around his shoulders. No one comments, no one looks twice. They just grab their plates and start eating.

And things look pretty good.


End file.
